


Fires at Midnight

by BizerkoKittykins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Community: rs_games, Embedded Images, Fanart, M/M, POV First Person, Present Tense, R/S Games 2016, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8299643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BizerkoKittykins/pseuds/BizerkoKittykins
Summary: R/S Games 2016 - Day 14 - Team PlaceWhat if Sirius got to James and Lily's before Hagrid? What if Remus went with him that night after Pettigrew? What if it all could have been different?





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Team:** Place  
>  **Title:** Fires at Midnight  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Warnings:** explicit language (Sirius' foul mouth), violence, canon character death; first person POV, present tense. Disjointed thoughts, ramblings. Deliberate sentence fragments and misuse of capitalization.  
>  **Genres:** Angst, Adventure, AU  
>  **Word Count:** 6100  
>  **Summary:** What if Sirius got to James and Lily's before Hagrid? What if Remus went with him that night after Pettigrew? What if it all could have been different?  
>  **Notes:** Honestly? I forgot Sirius _wasn't_ the first one at James at Lily's that night, or the one to get Harry. Don't know why. Still, I hope this all plays out well. Also, thank you to my lovely coworker who betaread this piece; you were a lifesaver.  
>  **Prompt:** #8 - [“Fires at Midnight” by Blackmore's Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7n51xJAcqg)

_I stood out here once before_  
_With my head held in my hands,_  
_For all that I had known of this place_  
_I could never understand._

_On the hills the fires burned at midnight,_  
_Superstition plagued the air,_  
_Sparks fly as the fires burn at midnight,_  
_the stars are out and magic is here…_

_I wished on the seven sisters,_  
_Bring to me wisdom of age,_  
_All that's locked within the book of secrets,_  
_I longed for the knowledge of the sage…_

I'm driving on, but all that I can think is, _There's fire._ Because there is, there must be a fire burning over by Godrick's Hollow. I can see red reflected on the sky, and I can smell smoke and see smoke, and...are those sparks? I had come down rather too harshly onto the pavement on the far side of the square by the post office and now I'm skidding the bike around corners and through rows of tidy homes towards the reddening horizon. As I round the last corner to James and Lily's house,-- _Why can I remember which one is theirs?_ \-- my breath catches in my throat and I find myself choking. I skid the bike to a stop and nearly throw it aside. I stumble to stand and stop to gawk.

James and Lily's cottage! James and Lily's precious little cottage. Most of it's standing fine, still with the neat flowerbeds and trimmed hedge, but the roof! The house only seems to Have half a roof, the right side of it blown clear off and, well, there's the fire. The edges around the hole in the roof are still smoking, sending tendrils up to mix with the red hues and the mocking, laughing tinkling of the stars. I hobble my way past the gate and through the open front door. I can't stop thinking, _I have to find them._

I gag and duck back out the door. _Well, you found one of them,_ says some cruel, very haughty and Black-ish corner of my brain. The rest of me's too in shock. I look back in. I keep thinking, _This has to be a joke._ Before I realize, I find myself on my knees at his side. James is laying on the floorboards and I'm bawling. I'm not even making much noise; I'm crying too hard. Nothing's coming but short little gasps and chokes. James is laying on the ground halfway in the entryway to the cottage, between the door and the stairs. Hazel eyes are staring blankly up at the ceiling and his glasses are crooked. Pale arms are splayed, but he doesn't have his wand out. There isn't a mark on him. _Avada Kedavra_ , then. My hands are shaking, but I reach out and close his eyes. I straighten his glasses. I push a few unruly curls back from his face. _Daft bastard,_ I think, because now I know it's not a prank, not a joke, and a slow rage is starting to build up under the layers of tears and numbness. I stand and make my way up the stairs. I glance around, holding my wand in a hand that is now more steady, training having kicked in. I'm sad, numb, cold and angry. Really fucking angry. I scan the hallway, keeping my guard up. Harry's room.

Most of the other doors aren't open, but I see a light shining out through a gap in Harry's door. Wait-- _Shit!_ Because Harry's room, Gods, that's about where the roof was missing, isn't it? I make my way to it and cautiously push the door open more. I meet an odd resistance and my stomach swims again when I see tendrils of red slipping under the door where the resistance is coming from. Gods, I mean, damn, I mean, fuck. Red. I duck around the door.

And there she is. There's Red. There's Mrs Hoity-Toity Lily Potter nee Evans. I miss her already. I can feel my jaw open and have to make myself blink. Fuck. She's just laying there, paler than ever under the light of stars and fire. I choke back another sob. Gods, I'm sorry, Red. This is all my fault. I'm sorry, Jamie. I don't understand, I don't get it and I just don't know how this could have happened. How could it? And I am so, so, so fucking sorry Har--

 _Harry?_ I hear sniffling and movement from where I'm leaning on the door frame. My head snaps up-- I end up getting a mouthful of my own hair-- and there he is. Big green eyes look up at me, filled with tears. He's standing in his crib, holding anxiously onto the bars. “Pafoo'?” he asks me. I let go of a breath I didn't even know I was holding. I put my wand away and make my way around Lily-- _Fuck!_ and go to pick him up. He holds tight to my neck with clammy little hands. His head is cocked down at Lily on the floor. “Pafoo'? Mumma.” I stop Harry as soon as he starts that. I bounce him on my hip and move his head into the crook of my neck. “Harry, Harry, Harry,” I say as a mantra. “Harry, Uncle Padfoot is _so_ glad to see you, baby. Harry, I thought--” I choke, stop myself off. I shake my head and start rubbing his back instead. I bounce him again and look around. I can't tell what happened here. There's the obvious hole in the roof and one corner of the room under it, by Harry's crib, is covered in a layer of black. What happened here? Death Eaters, obviously. Or maybe Old Bloody Eyes, himself. I look up at the hole in the roof. What could have...? I shake my head and brush a hand over Harry's curls, brushing them back off the sticky forehead. My hand comes back red.

“Harry!” I shift him and look down at his face. How hadn't I seen it before? There, on his bared forehead, is a small cut, bleeding steadily. Harry squirms in my arm, starts to fuss. 

“Pafoo'! Mumma!” Harry starts to cry, and I push him back into my neck and use both arms to hold him still. I can only think, _I need to get out of here._ I make my way back to the door and look down at Lily again. Her eyes are closed, but her face has a pinched look. Her hair is a large, red halo fanning out around her face. In that moment, I burn everything in the room into my mind. I couldn't forget, anyway. From Lily's hair, to the fire, to Harry's _Magical Alphabet_ poster, I'll remember it all. 

I make myself leave Harry's room and make my way down the hall and to the staircase. There's where they framed the photo we all took by the lake seventh year. There's where Prongs “signed” a photo of himself with a big inky hoofprint. There's that godawful wallpaper in their upstairs bath and the litterbox—where the hell is Lily's cat anyway? Did it go out the front door? Harry has stilled a little and I grab the railing on the way down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, I can turn and see the edge of the large rug in their sitting room and the end of their loveseat. And there's that ugly lamp with the beaded trim. And there's the door to the kitchen with all of Lily's china and the cookie jar that Lily was always yelling at James about. I turn my head and make myself head to the front door. I determinedly Do Not look down when I hear and feel Harry yelling, “Dadaa!”

I end up sitting on the front step of James and Lily's cottage. I sit Harry in my lap and stare at the sidewalk, gutted. I don't know how long I'm sitting there, but eventually I look up, feeling more than seeing or hearing what's changed.

Remus is pushing his way past the front gate. He looks panicky and sickly pale and out of breath. He gasps a breath and looks at me. “Sirius?” I nod and he walks up to me. He reaches out one scarred hand tentatively and doesn't quite touch Harry's forehead while the questions form in his eyes. “Sirius, what happened...?” I can only sigh and shake my head. I can only think, see, feel and _James is on the floorboards_ and _Lily's hair is a halo of red_ and _Harry's sticky forehead and my hand comes back red_...

I snap back and Remus is in front of me with worry in his eyes and Harry is squirming and fussing. Was he shaking me? Fuck if I know. “Sirius? Sirius! What is it? Are you okay?”

“'M fine,” I mutter, low and hoarse. I can barely see the man's face in front of me by the red-orange light from the fire, the moon, and those damned laughing stars. I glance up at where I know the Orion constellation would be, at Bellatrix. _I bet you're fucking happy now, aren't you?_

“Sirius? You are not fine,” Remus says with a scowl, calling me out on my lie.

“I'm not fine,” I admit. I hear my voice, his voice, Harry as if it is all coming from very far away. I focus my eyes back on Remus. I can see the bunched place between his eyebrows, furrowed. It was always a kind of cute look on him, when we were back in school. And later, when I would lean in and kiss the furrow away from his brow. Funny how long ago that all seems now, a war ago, a lifetime ago. 

He quirks his mouth and looks a little lost. We haven't talked for a while now. There was that fight, and then he walked out, moving back into his da's old place. We haven't really talked since then, with the stress and the suspicion. He seems at a loss as to how to do it now, and seems awkward. I probably would feel awkward now too, if I could feel much of anything at all. I blink and shift Harry.

“Er, Sirius.” I feel his eyes and he waits until I look at him. “You need to tell me: what happened?” He looks up at the smoking hole in James and Lily's roof. _James is on the floorboards._ I shake my head and hold Harry close. Remus sighs and stands up, he goes around me and reaches for the doorknob. I twist violently and grab his hand.

“Remus, no!” He turns and looks at me, looks at my hand on his arm. I don't let go, but rather pull him away. “Remus, don't go in there.” I can't see the look on my face, but I can imagine how bad it must look, based on the way he's staring at me.

He swallows. “Why?”

“Because...James...James, he's...” _on the floorboards, and his eyes are wide and his glasses are crooked and there's not a mark on him._ “He's...”

Remus' eyes get large and he suddenly looks very young, even with the light catching the grey at his temples. “Oh, no. Sirius, no.” I nod. Remus opens his mouth a few times before he can speak. “He-he's dead?” I nod. He lowers his eyes, but then they snap up. “And Lily?” I look away. I can hear him stifle a sob. 

He collapses gracelessly on the step below me. We're not touching, but after a minute, he starts petting at one of Harry's arms, absently, as if to remind himself that Harry's there and real and alive. I know the feeling. 

A bit later, he looks up at me again and my eyes are drawn by the movement to meet his. “Sirius,” he says, his voice steadier again, but a little thin and breathy, probably from fighting off the crying. 

“Yeah?” I say, barely finding my voice. It sounds surprisingly normal, low and growly, but still smooth. It has an odd echo, though, and I can't feel my face. 

“How?” is all he asks. 

“How?” I repeat, “How what?”

His eyes have this weight in them and his body is kind of tense, like a coiled spring. He looks almost like he might go for his wand. He squares himself. “You were their Secret Keeper.”

And suddenly, damn. I shake my head and bite my lip. “No. No, Remus, I wasn't.” I can feel the blood on my lip and I'm suddenly holding back a sob, or a laugh, or something. Maybe the Black-ness is catching up to me; I certainly feel like I'm going crazy. It would make more sense than this. 

It seems like Remus falls in on himself, like a cake in the oven. “What?”

I avert my eyes, because suddenly I'm guilty like crazy. I smooth back Harry's curls. “I'm sorry. I wasn't the Secret Keeper. We switched, right at the end. I thought, I thought I'd be too obvious a choice. That they'd go after me and that would give him a chance to run for it--” Remus' eyes are big and shocked, but I can see all the pieces starting to fall into place inside of that clever brain of his. I get cut off, though, by the gate in front of the house slamming itself open against the fence. Remus and I both snap around and our wands are leveled at the approaching figure Just Like That, still perfectly in sync despite everything.

It's Hagrid, of all people. He's shuffling his way through the gate, standing sideways to slip through. He turns and he's looking up at the house again, his jaw a little lax. He makes his way up towards the house, and his eyes fall to meet mine. He looks over the three of us, sweaty and bloody and generally messes both physically and emotionally. 

He clears his throat. “Remus,” he says and Remus nods absently. “Sirius.” I nod.

“Hullo, Hagrid.” He looks aside. Fucking everyone looks aside, Hell, _I've_ looked aside. It's like nobody wants to admit or acknowledge the tragedy forming in front of their eyes. My eyes. _The hole in the roof and the whole corner was black, beside Harry's crib._

I shake my head again. I need to be here, now. Harry needs me. I shift him again, just a little. The way he's laying must be uncomfortable, but he keeps dozing off. Poor kid must be exhausted-- Gods know I am. Hagrid looks at Harry. “I can take 'im,” Hagrid offers, extending his hands toward Harry. I shake my head.

“Thanks, but no. I've got him.” Hagrid flushes a little. 

“S'why I'm here, actually. Dumbledore wanted me ter come fetch the lad, save him away from,” he gesture around us, “all o' this.” Remus looks up at the half-giant, a little questioning. 

“I appreciate you coming to get him, but, like I said, I've already got him. He's already,” I clear my throat, “uh, safe, I guess.” Fuck, it keeps catching up with me-- how the hell is all of this happening?

“I un'erstand, Sirius, but Dumbledore wants me to bring Harry back ter him at Hogwarts.” My eyes snap up, and I can feel them narrow. All I can think is, _The bleeding fuck?_

I'm shaking and before I even realize it, I'm standing up and glaring up and am toe to toe with Hagrid. “Fuck no! No, you, he—you're not taking Harry away from me! I'm his godfather, Hagrid; I'll look after him.” 

The half-giant stays calm and shakes his head at me, a sad look in his eyes. “I've got me orders, Sirius. I'm s'posed ta take Harry back to Dumbledore an' then, he says, Harry's goin' ter his aunt and uncle's.”

 _I must look ridiculous_ , some part at the back of my brain that never shuts up thinks, because I'm squinting so hard up at this man. “His aunt and uncle's?”

Suddenly Remus pipes up. “You can't mean Lily's sister?” I turn and gape at Remus, then swirl back to Hagrid.

“That bitch? She's awful! Hell no, Harry's staying with me, right here. You're not taking him.”

“But Dumbledore said--”

“Fuck Dumbledore. I don't give one single fuck what he said! Harry's staying with me!” My voice keeps raising and I feel Harry begin to stir in my arms. Honestly, it's a miracle that he hasn't woken up yet-- I'm not exactly known for being quiet.

Hagrid is getting red in the face, and I know I've said the wrong thing, but I can tell he's trying to stay calm. “Now, Sirius, I can tell you're upset--”

“Yeah, wouldn't you be?” I spit. 

His face softens a tad. “Yeh, I expect I would be. Don' know how you're managing, ter be honest...”

I look aside. “For Harry, mostly.” He nods.

“I see. But Dumbledore says fer me ter take him, so I gotta. You understand. You can go an' talk to him later, if you want ter. For now, I'm sure you've got something else, somebody ter check on.” He looks at Remus briefly. “Maybe yer friend, Peter?”

And suddenly the floor drops out. Suddenly, the walls come down-- _That godawful wallpaper in their upstairs bath_ \-- but even that can't stop me, because now, suddenly, I can see everything and it suddenly Makes Sense. It suddenly makes this awful, horrible sense and the fear and the tears and most of the numbness falls away. And the rage boils up. I look squarely into Hagrid's eyes and nod.

“Okay, you take him to Dumbledore and I'll,” I laugh here, hollowly, “I'll check on Peter. You take Harry, hell, take my bike to get him there.” I gesture to where my poor, beloved motorcycle is laying tossed aside in front of the cottage. I push back Harry's hair and he blinks big, sleepy green eyes at me. I carefully hand him to Hagrid, and turn to walk away. “I won't be needing it anymore.”

Hagrid doesn't seem to have noticed the shift in me, or if he does, he doesn't say anything. He cradles little Harry in one giant hand and makes his way over to my bike. I stand aside, pondering how best to go about this as I hear the bike start, roar, and fade away. 

I start to walk to the gate when I hear Remus. “What are you doing?” I look over at him. He's a wreck, but still looks oddly dignified, standing by the steps with his hands folded. He has on this ugly beige sweater with a white t-shirt poking out at the collar. The sweater, I notice now, has a hole in the side and looks like it was caught on something and tore. Some voice says that Remus usually takes better care of his things; some voice says that he must have been really shook up tonight. Obviously. 

I barely recognize my own voice as I growl. “I'm going to catch a Rat.” It's the rage talking, but that's okay. The rage is okay, the rage is strong and sure and is what's keeping me on my feet now. Rage and revenge are so much better than tears and numbness and reliving what's happened tonight, than seeing the inside of that house over and over. 

I turn to leave at that, but before I'm at the gate, Remus is at my elbow, following me. His eyes are bright. “What do you mean?” I shrug him off, but he grabs my arm and yanks me around.

“Damnit, Sirius!” he all but roars, rage of his own. “What do you mean? Catch a rat? You can't be saying--”

“But I am,” I say in return. His eyes widen, then turn to slits, processing and following me as fast as ever, as effortlessly as ever.

“I'm coming with you,” he says, and there's no room for argument. I look over the scarred face, the angry amber eyes, and I nod. And just like that, he's back at my side and the hunt is on. 

Fucking Peter Pettigrew was not at his home earlier when I did my check in. It was odd, and that was when I realized that I could remember where James lived and dived into a panic. I hadn't thought about it till now, but he was the Secret Keeper. Now the panic's gone, now I put it all together, now I know what That Rat has done. Now I know what betrayal has been done and what punishment has to be meted out.

It surprises Remus when I grab his arm and Apparate, but he largely takes it in stride to find himself suddenly outside of 12 Grimmauld Place. He turns and he looks at me. “Why are we here?”

I walk passed him and up to the door. It's a nasty old thing, but maybe because it could be beautiful. The whole place, my childhood home-- _my childhood cage_ \-- lived in a state of cruel decomposition. The breaking down of something old and fine to only leave the rotting remains behind, both household and house. In the odd way of doing something that once long ago was so very common, I press my hand to the door. Quickly, I find that the wards still recognize me, that She hasn't changed them. I smile an unpleasant smile at my luck. “A tracking spell. In the library.” I close my eyes and tune into the wards, then turn to look at him. “No one's here, but we have to be quick.” Remus nods and follows me through the door. 

Remus looks around the entry. This is his first time inside the place and I indulge him-- some voice says, _“Don't you always?”_ \-- a moment to adjust to the place. I watch him take in the fading and falling wallpaper, the rotting floorboards, the old rugs and lamps and trinkets. I go over and turn the switch on one of the dim lights and, as the spell is set, the rest in the room flicker to life. It's still barely enough light to see by, and I may as well have left the lights off. The lights here were always dim, to mask the condition of the house, I expect. I meet Remus' eyes and make my way towards the family library. 

In the hallway leading to the library, I notice the layer of dust covering everything. Looks like She is really letting everything go to rot, not making the elf attend to the house. Because Kreacher had to be made to clean and care for things; he'd never been inclined to do it on his own. I let my eyes roam and wonder where the elf had got to. We were lucky enough not to run into him, and I'd be better not to jinx it. Still, I wonder where Kreacher is. I wonder where Lily's cat is. 

The wallpaper in James and Lily's upstairs bath is ugly, but at least it's a pleasant seagreen and pink. The wallpaper at Grimmauld is dark greens and reds that make me think of dried blood. _Harry's sticky forehead and my hand comes back red._

I realize that I've stopped a few feet back from the door and that Remus is reaching to open it. I stop him with a hand on the arm and shake my head. I move forward and turn the silver handle myself. 

The library was always one of my favorite rooms in the house, one of the only ones I could halfway stand to be in. It had a high ceiling and big soft chairs, and even the wallpaper couldn't bother me too much, because ninety percent of the walls were covered in dark wooden shelves bulging to the brim with books. Some of these were novels or epics, some poems, some spellbooks bought at some store or another. Some were old and handwritten by generations of Blacks who had come before. I walked passed the great window seat and to one of the shelves that carried these.

Typically a Black's Book of Shadows was only added to the shelves after he or she had died. The exceptions to these were few and far between, because one had to do something very bad to get cut off from the Black's line of spells. I smiled slightly as I saw my own sitting there, hardly filled. I actually reached for the one beside it, however. I balanced the leather case on my hand and ran my fingers over the engraved name on the cover. _Andromeda Black_.

My dear cousin Andromeda had been disowned for marrying a muggleborn while I still lived here, but I still remembered her warmly. Her name had been struck from the family tapestry, and it became all but taboo to even say her name, like they wanted to forget she even existed. During long summers of fighting, when I was lonely for anyone who would sympathize with my differences from the family, I would hike my broken and bruised self up to the library and cling to the only seeming proof that Andy even existed. I'd spent many long days flipping through her spellbook and memorizing her handwriting. 

I had memorized the handwriting, but my memory of the tracking spell in the book was foggier. I smiled down at the leather cover and flipped the book open. I skimmed the pages with my eyes, trying to ignore the warm hovering of Remus as he peered over my shoulder. I stopped and tapped the top of the page, where thin elaborate letters had written _Spell to Find a Person_.

Thin and fine penmanship etched careful words underneath. The spell called for a waxing moon, which worked for me. The material components were easy as well, and I had no doubt that I could find them easily in the house. Hell, it seemed an easy enough spell that I'm kind of surprised that I forgot it. Still, spells with full lines of incantation tended to be unused by all but the oldest magickal families-- _The Moste Noble and Ancient House of Black, indeed_ \--as they were flashy and went back to the supposed roots of magical wizarding families, but they tended to be very inconvenient. And hard to remember.

I run my eyes over the page again and nod to myself. I can go and get these quickly. I look up at Remus. His eyes are over my shoulder and on the book in my hands. I turn to face him, close the book and run my hands over it nervously. I can't bring myself to want to share it with anyone, even if it is Remus. These books are kept carefully; they're personal. That's why it was Andromeda's punishment to have it taken when she left. _When I left._

I meet eyes with Remus, who is looking at me with those worried eyebrows again. I can't stand it and look away again. “This will work,” I choke out. “I'll just go get the materials.” I turn and start walking out of the room, Andromeda's book under my arm. 

I stop when I hear his voice. It's hurried, like he had to say it before he could stop himself. “Sirius! I...we all, we knew it was bad, but we didn't know it was this bad. I- I'm sorry.” I nod. I understand him, and I forgive him. For everything.

I walk out of the library. I'm heading back in the door maybe ten minutes later, my arms full. Remus looks up from where he's slumped in the window seat, bright night behind him, and all I can think is, _Damn, he looks as bad as I feel._

He stands and comes over to where I'm sitting everything on one of the tables. I lay it all out neatly. White candle, oil to dress it, rolled in powdered herbs. Sage and jasmine for intuition. Focus on intent. Cast the circle. A paper with the incantation copied onto it. Set it on fire while I say it. 

“I wish to find this person,  
the one I seek.  
Let me know his footsteps,  
as I will it, so mote it be.”

I drop the burning incantation down into a bowl, watching the fire climb over the paper, making it twist as black ash falls around it. It keeps going until the last bit of paper burns. For a second, the fire stops. Almost as quick, a small pale blue fire climbs from that spot. I reach into the bowl and scoop the blue fire into one hand. And, just like that, the spell's done.

I can feel it in my bones now, and almost without thinking I start walking away. I can feel Remus at my shoulder and I walk faster. Before I know it, I’m slamming the door to 12 Grimmauld and standing on the stairs. I glance up at the sky, as I often do. Andromeda, Narcissa, hell even Bellatrix. I stare with unfocused eyes and I can only think, _Help me find him. I have to find him. For everything._ I mean, hell, it’s revenge. Even Bellatrix would be behind me getting that, right? Her morals are twisted, but she has them.

I sigh and close my eyes. Aloud, to the one beside me I say, “You don’t have to go with me; you don’t have to do this.” Because Remus was closer to Peter than I was; I always scared The Rat, I think. Remus shouldn’t have to hunt him down like this, and I’m the one with the spell.

“No,” I hear him say, “I want to. I want him dead. For James, for Lily...You and me. Everything.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, tentatively almost, but I get it. I relax under his hand for a couple of breaths, then nod.

“Okay.” I tune into the ache in my bones and reach back to take Remus’ hand in mine. I turn and Apparate, instinctively.  
Suddenly, I’m on some little street with Muggle houses running either side. I turn my head, but I don’t need to. I can already feel it. I drop Remus’ hand and take off. He’s near. Down the street, up another, a dead end, and there he is. The Rat. I drop the spell fire. I don’t need it. Padfoot could smell him, track him, at this point. I almost give into The Dog and let him go at it, rend and tear with teeth. I feel a growl in my throat, but I swallow it.

“Peter,” I hear Remus call, and The Rat looks up at a point over my left shoulder. Beady eyes, pale and shiny with sweat. I can smell his fear. _Her eyes are closed, but her face has a pinched look._

I close my eyes, breathe, open them. I walk forward. My wand’s in my hand and it’s leveled at Peter. “Peter,” I call. Focus. Anger. The hate can get me through this.

The Rat makes a noise and shrinks against a signpost at the end of the street. I see maybe a dozen Muggles walking around, maybe going to a party, maybe taking their children guising. I don’t know; I don’t care. I march down towards Pettigrew. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Peter?” I ask loudly. My voice is calm, almost mocking.

I’m pretty close and I can see The Rat thinking. “Wh-wh-what are you doing? You--Remus, he, he betrayed them! James and Lily, Remus! He betrayed them!” His face is shining in the little light it catches and he’s shaking. This, this gannet, ligger, this--I’m so angry I don’t have words.

Remus does, though. “Really Peter? Is that why I found him crying on James and Lily’s doorstep and found you running away?” He’s stepped a couple of steps in front of me, so I can see him. He’s doing that thing where he gets emotional so he shuts down. He’s running cold and accurate now. He’s merciless. He’s terrifying. He’s beautiful.

Peter’s eyes open wide, then squint down, trying to look pitiful. Shame neither of us have any pity now, yeah? “R-remus. Remus, he killed them and I had to run. I had to! Or he’d kill me too.”

Remus starts striding farther forward. “I think we both know that’s a lie, Peter.”

“Remus--he-- HE KILLED THEM! HE BETRAYED JAMES AND LILY AND HE KILLED THEM!” He’s yelling and I blink. Is that his wand in his hands, down by his waist? He makes a complicated little movement and then suddenly it’s bright, and I can’t see, and my ears are ringing. I don’t move a moment, dazed. It’s a moment longer before I realize that I’m face down on the pavement of the street. I try to sit up, push my hair out of my face. My cheek hurts and my hand comes back red. _Harry's sticky forehead and my hand comes back red._

“Sirius?” come soft, perpetually drawling tones over the ringing in my ears. I turn and see Remus, covered in dirt and scuffed, and really that sweater is just trash now, not that it wasn’t poxy to start with. He’s shivering, the hand still clutching his hand shaking. His eyes are wide and bright and looking so damn Young. He stills just a second, then seems to give into himself and suddenly those shaking hands are smoothing over my face, lingering on the pulse on my neck a second before they retreat. He gives a soft sigh.

I do too, then I look around. Everything’s busted up, exploded. I can see the Muggles collapsed on a nearby sidewalk. I can hear screaming in the distance. I push up to my feet and work my way over to where Peter was. One Muggles, there on the sidewalk? She’s a bloody mess. I look aside and find the now crooked signpost. There’s a collection of blood, slowly eking its way over to the gutter grate. There’s one finger laying in the middle.

It’s like before, when I can feel laughter bubbling up. But this time, The Black-ness, I can’t fight it, and then I’m laughing. I can’t stop. “He--haha-- Re, Remus, he must have-- haha. He must have killed himself! With the curse! Haha! It backfired! Hahahaha…” I drop to my knees, clutching my stomach with one hand, the other trying to dig my short little nails into the pavement. I’m crying and laughing and I must look mad. But everything’s exploded, and _James and Lily's precious little cottage. Most of it's standing fine, still with the neat flowerbeds and trimmed hedge, but the roof! The house only seems to Have half a roof_...

But no, isn’t it terrible? And isn’t it funny? Because James and Lily are dead. And all those Muggles are dead. And Peter’s dead.

I’m yanked up by my shoulders and I feel a smack across the cheek that isn’t bleeding and suddenly I can hear when Remus yells at me to, “Calm DOWN, Sirius!”

I’m down to occasional chuckles now and when I look and focus, I notice that the Aurors are here.

Moody’s here and that’s both mortifying and relieving, but mostly it’s hilarious. I try to shut up while Remus talks and while they ask questions and it’s not really that hard because once the chuckles die down, I can just stare down at the pavement or up at the stars. And some part of me, maybe it’s the Black-ness, the madness, or whatever, but I can’t help thinking, _Thank you._ And with the bloodbath today, I bet Bellatrix would be pleased.

I focus in when I hear Moody saying, “Black! Eh, Black?”

I meet his eyes and ask, “Yeah?” which I’m surprised doesn’t get me hexed. But then again, can anything surprise me after today?

Either way, Moody takes in stride. “I said, Black, ‘Is what he said all right?’”

I hadn’t heard a damn word. “Yeah, it’s all right.”

Moody nods and a voice says, “Then, if you’re finished, Alastor, I’d like a word with these two.” I looked over. Dumbledore.

He was standing over to one side, looking more grave than I think I’ve ever seen him, hands crossed. “Yeah,” Moody says, “you talk to them.”

Remus and I cross over to Dumbledore and he nods a greeting. On the way over, Remus meets my eyes. “I’m sorry, Pads,” he says quietly, “and thank you.” I give a surprisingly real smile.

“The same, Moony.” And suddenly, his hand was in mine.


End file.
